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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29101881">Dear Diary</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiyrol/pseuds/tiyrol'>tiyrol</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Aftermath of Love or Host [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bad writes like a poet, Bitter ending, Diary/Journal, Drifting Apart, Hurt No Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, No descriptions just feelings, One-Sided Attraction, POV First Person, Projecting my feelings into writing, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic, love or host</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:29:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,964</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29101881</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiyrol/pseuds/tiyrol</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Each entry makes me realise more and more, though, there's always one question that always lingers.</p><p>Why can't he love me back?</p><p>-</p><p>Or, Bad starts to write a diary after Skeppy's successful relationship he acquired from Love or Host, pages filled with envy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Aftermath of Love or Host [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2135280</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Monday, 1st March</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i> I saw online this would help, I doubt it, really. I’ve been dealing with these feelings for months. It’s unrealistic to think this will make me help something other than pure sadness, it’s unfair to lie to myself that it can be this easy. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>They told me to try, and so, I will. Anything to make something cause me to crack a smile.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>And so, I will try. For him. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Dear Diary,</i>
</p><p>
  <i> I miss him.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The days blur together into one until it just becomes, too cloudy. The kind of weather that appears to ruin your late-night drives at 3 am, making the road fuzzy and vision so blurred that it makes your sight the kind that needs such a high vision prescription that makes the glass thick enough to make the frames slide down your nose.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I find myself common to ramble, the kind of rambling where it turns a simple sentence into an hour-long conversation. I’ve been told that its a trait many envy, yet, I would trade it for anything in the world. It makes everything so much harder to do and feel. I miss the times when everything would feel so simple, easy and built to make sense, build solely for the purpose to make me smile.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I find talking to others about my feelings a challenge, especially when they’re commonly mocked until it becomes one huge joke.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I don’t ever think they intend to make me feel like that. As if they don’t care; but, it utterly breaks me when they would crack a laugh after my minutes of letting something off my chest, especially when it would take so long for me to find the words to express why the tears would spill when I would sit alone trying to fall asleep.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I miss it when he could listen. When he would care. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>That feeling is gone, and very much missed. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>He would listen just enough, enough to know and feel empathy. The others don’t. They never will.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Just because they don’t understand, and I don’t think they ever will find it in their hearts to attempt to listen.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>That’s why I miss him so much, or, at least, that’s what I want to tell myself.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I don’t like to admit that it’s because of her. I don’t like to think that he listens to her struggles and cries out for help. I don’t like to think that he cares and helps her. That was built for me, from me. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>How can he help her, I always thought it was something he was incapable of doing, that's what he would always tell me. I wouldn't take his little advice and sly comments to heart because he would always reassure me that he was trying his best, and that was enough for me, enough to make me think he cared.</i>
</p><p>
<i>Yet, somehow when I find myself watching their streams, little dates and picnic benches on the Minecraft world, I can’t help to find myself to envy what she receives, he told me he was incapable of feeling this way toward someone, that he struggled to express his emotions and it was hard to open up, help his friend.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I don't know why I was surprised when I saw him giving her so much support and empathy, because, it was always an exception for her.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It hurt even more, just because it was the same ip he had brought me to, so long ago. The same hill, the same flowers, the same man. Just decorated with more care because he wanted to impress her. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Why did it have something else that I didn’t have before, why did it have love?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I know it’s wrong. That I should let her have this if I wanted it so bad, since, it was clear to assume that she wanted it and deserved it a lot more, being in the role of his.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It’s not fair to hold a grudge against her just because of his mistakes and flaws in our friendship, but it’s also unfair to myself to not feel how I do.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>How can he be everything he couldn’t be before all of a sudden. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>How can he give the perfect advice, give her the perfect smile and the right giggles to make her giggle in response?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>How can he talk to her like that, with a tone so loving that I had been searching for, for as long as I can remember? </i>
</p><p>
  <i>How can he stick to her like glue? Send her good mornings and goodnights? Respond to every call she would send his way?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>How can he love her, and not love me? </i>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm projecting my feelings into this from my past relationship, I'm okay, I'm making this a lot more dramatic than it actually is.</p><p>Also, I'm planning on writing one-shots based off of this scenario and adding them into the series, so, if you're interested in the series then It's probably better to subscribe to that for future uploads.</p><p>(Planning on updating You Make It Worthwhile soon, I've been caught up with so much work and these are simple to write so you'll probably see a lot more of these more often.)</p><p>Comments are VERY appreciated. &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Tuesday, 2nd March</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>Dear Diary,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>They streamed together today. Again.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It’s not as if the sight of them streaming together was new to me, no, I know it wasn’t, but still, every time I see it, it all comes back to me. All at once.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Like a rush, an overwhelming one. Somewhat new. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>I knew I would be sitting here one day, alone. Missing him. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>I don’t know why I was surprised. I shouldn’t be. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>I wish I could go back. Fix what I did wrong. Whatever that may be, I don't know. I'd be willing to find out if it meant I'd meet him at the end of the tunnel.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It was familiar and seeing them just reminds me of how its never going to be like that for us, him, laughing at my jokes the way he laughs at hers. Or the way he just smiles more, his eyebrows quirk or he just seems happier.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I want that back but, did I even ever have that? </i>
</p><p>
  <i>I wonder that a lot. If what we had ever come remotely close to their romance. I’m not sure if I hope we did have that but, wouldn’t it just make this harder to handle?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I don’t want this to be harder than it already is. I don’t think I’d be able to take that, watch them be happy, minds drunken on each other’s wide smiles.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It’s like a puzzle that I can’t complete, a piece bright with colour missing, the last to complete my favourite picture. He was the piece, his feelings, his care. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>I crave it. I envy that it’s in her grasp.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It’s not fair, it never will be.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Why aren’t I enough for him?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Why is she enough?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>What do I do to be enough?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It’s like an unspoken solution, one that would be so overpowered that it couldn’t be in the hands of someone so careless and inexperienced. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>I know I don’t deserve it any more than she does, she wants him, she has him.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I want him so much more, though. I crave his touch, soft hands in my own. His smile wobbly shooting back at my half made one. Love radiating off of him so easily, just done out of complete habit. Just for me. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>It’s like a picture in my head, so carefully sketched out to perfection. Lines neat and sketchy at the same time, all in the right places.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>All that’s left to make it perfect is the colour.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It would burst, create a wash of love, happiness, smiles. It would complete me. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Like soft roses, an array of different shades, all contrast in all the right ways. Like they were made for each other.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>That’s not the reality though, is it? I’m just here, mimicking the empty canvas, waiting for the colour to hit the page, fill my life with all the hues I’ve ever craved. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>I’m still waiting on my prince charming of tones and drops of pigment. I wonder what it would be like, seeing all the colours form on the empty canvas. The number of sheer emotions they would create, just from the paintbrush working in a smooth motion, completing the picture.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I envy her complete picture. There are imperfections, there always will be. It’s still enough to make it so goddamn breathtaking, jaw-dropping and flawless. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Even to have the slightest of what her artwork is, it would make me become a fortune, the price tag slapped on my side would make me much more than I already am. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>But, I’m just a dark shadow of empty colours, missing the perfection that would make me wanted, cherished.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I wonder what it’s like to be framed on his wall, displayed so proudly.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I’d be an object, a pretty one yes, but still an object but, still. Isn’t that still a higher status than my worthless title? </i>
</p><p>
  <i>I’d like being an object if it meant I’d be his. </i>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ah, I hope this made sense.</p><p>Comments are VERY appreciated! &lt;33</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Wednesday, 3rd March</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>Dear Diary,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He told me about her today.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>A lot, actually. He rambled on for what felt like hours of her pretty smile, long flowing hair and how he would dream of the strands between his fingers. It hurt to listen to but, wouldn’t I be a bad friend if I let my emotions peak through the wall I’ve built up to hide the truth?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He told me about her laugh, how she was everything he ever dreamt of, everything he’d ever wanted. How he would do anything for her, be anything for her. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Ironic that I feel similar emotions, just for the person I’m not allowed to have, the person who doesn’t even want me.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Sometimes I wonder whether I make it obvious that I’m crushing the only sanity I have left of myself by hiding, I hope they don’t find out, they’d mock me for no end.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I feel stupid, dumb, sensitive when I let little jokes get to my heart. They’re meant to be light, taken with a grain of salt but I can’t help to look past all of the joking undertones they use, they’re right, I’m in no means even able to lie about how I feel deep down about the raven haired man, all people such as me should know this.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Yet. sometimes I don’t.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>In reality, I do, you can’t really lie to yourself in this way really but, I hide it a lot, I look past it, try to see ahead of me but the blocks and heaps —tumble even— of built up emotions and hidden feelings always seem to get in the goddamn way.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The feelings feel like one giant wall, blocking the horizon that would save me behind it.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It’s like I’ve been told to break it down with my fists, unarmed with nothing.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>And trust me, I’ve tried.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I’ve tried, over and over to break apart the stone of a mess in front of me and I never even leave a dent. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Giving up seems like the brighter side of things,  though, theres a curtain in the way, constantly.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Her.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>She’s the one who makes it merely impossible to forget, always resurfacing the things I’ve tried to shove away for so long.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It’s her love for him, her affection. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>It makes me realise how much I want to be her. How much I want to be his.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Be in his arms like she will be someday, be as welcome into loving him as much as she does.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It like he’s obsessed with the idea of a her loving him, and not just anyone.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I’m not a she. I’m a he. And I lie to myself constantly, saying if I was someone else he would want me as much as he wants her. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>I need to stop lying to myself.  I know she'd always win, despite my tries.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I know its unhealthy. I know I should stop but, I just think I’d break even more without the bandage of lies I wrap around my own head.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>They’re suffocating, always pressed to tight, I guess that’s the side effects of doing such.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Often times I wonder what it’s like to be a she. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>To be someone he wants. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>To be his.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I wonder, I wonder so often what it’s like to live the life of someone he desires so dearly. I wonder what it’s like to be like her.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>To have long flowed out hair that’s as soft as silk, what it’s like for his fingers to run through it. To be able to impress him, have the body he wants, he’d be able to have it, I’d let him without a second thought passing my head.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I’m lovesick, I’m really sick. There’s no getting out of this one.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Though it seems my hospital is out of reach, she’s the one in the way for me to take the final step.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I’ve known from the start that I’d do anything for him, to have him but, I really would go as far as I was able to go.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>How far would I have to go for him to finally want me?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I think she’d always be first place, no matter how much I change to please him.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>First place, hm, that would be nice. Unrealistic though.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It’s like that medal is sown into her, tattooed into her skin.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I want that, I want him.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I’ll do anything to get there. <b>Anything.</b></i>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope your enjoying the ride of watching Bad slowly lose his own sanity :D</p><p>Also I'd like to add that I'm not writing this out of worry/anything of those sorts about the LoH, I purely just like this idea and genuinely love Madi lolol I just wanted to add that :)</p><p>Comments are VERY appreciated.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Thursday, 4th March</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>Dear Diary,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He introduced me to her today.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I didn’t expect it to be so hard to watch them interact without the cameras pointing at them.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Sometimes I found myself stopping to wonder if they remembered I was in the call, having to awkwardly interrupt them with a low grumble that would snap them out of the lovey-dovey sweet talk they found themselves trapped in.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>But after all that, she was nothing but kind, loving and understanding of me. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>She was so respectful of our friendship. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>She made it clear that she would never get in the way. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>She. She was perfect.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>She still, somehow was able to reassure and clear all my worries and doubts that bubbled in my head but It only made it worse, only made the scar deeper.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It made it clear that this was all on him.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Anything he’s done to make me feel like she’s more than what I am, what we have, has all been in his control. His choice to choose her over me, his decision.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It makes me wonder if he ever put me off for her, cancelled what we had planned for weeks because of a last-minute offer to hangout from her.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Surely not… right?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>No, he wouldn’t do that to me, not on purpose anyway. Yeah, it was just a mistake, a small little misunderstanding that has just so happened to occur multiple times.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I also wonder how they snapped together so fast, how they rescheduled their lives so quickly, without a second thought about the others around them without a care.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>With their new, synced routines, Skeppy cut a lot of things out, including spending time with me. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>The time we spend together was time I often used to find myself valuing a little too much.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I didn’t realise how much it meant to me until it was just, gone one day. Like a puff of smoke that was easily brushed away carelessly with a waving hand.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It’s as if she was meant for him, built to fit in his life like I find myself seeing she does, things I want so desperately.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I never used to think about the ideas and stories on soulmates, I never wanted to because, I knew Skeppy wasn’t made for me, how I knew he wouldn’t stick to me the way he sticks to her.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I didn’t want to admit to myself that he didn’t want me as I wanted him.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>And the thing I see is how they fit that description a little too well, like they were built to love each other this much, the way they do.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I don’t want to think that they’re soulmates, and so I’ll continue to block it out. Continue to lie to myself</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It hurt to think about at the time but, the more I watch them with one another, listen to them giggle in a different tone to usual, I think. I think hard. The conclusion I come to is strange, stranger than anything I’ve ever tried to wrap my head around before.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I don’t feel anything. No pang of hatred, no sting of sadness or itch of jealousy.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I just feel numb.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I don’t know what hurts more, the way he thinks of her in a different eye than he does with me, how he opens his heart up so quickly for her to jump right into or if it hurts more to think about how nice she is.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>How much she deserves him.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I wish she was someone so dislikable, that she treated him in a way that would make him hurt, just enough for him to crawl back into my arms and to mutter into my ears on how I was right, how he’ll never leave me again, how much he loves me.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>That’s not reality. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>The reality is, she’s perfect.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>She’s nice, her tone is sweet and understanding, she’s drop-dead beautiful. She cares for him, she looks like she would do anything for him, give up anything and be everything he wants, even though she doesn’t need to try, </i>
</p><p>
  <i>She’s already everything he’d ever want, everything I’m not.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I wish I would say I hate her, how she doesn’t deserve him, how he deserves better than what she can give him.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Everyone loves her, everyone desires who she is, what she has and everything shes destined to have.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>So do I.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I envy her, I know I do. I’m jealous of what she can achieve, how she can achieve him.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I want him, I want what she can get, I want to be her.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>But, I’m not her, I won’t be who she is and I most certainly won’t ever have what she does.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I’ll never have him, because,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He’s her Skeppy. </i>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Comments are VERY appreciated &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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